


we all got expectations (and sometimes they go wrong)

by brokendevil



Series: Sundays!Verse [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: College Years, F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendevil/pseuds/brokendevil
Summary: If she tries hard enough and closes her eyes tightly then  she can pretend it’s just her and Lexa and the world begins to spin again.orTumblr prompt in which Sundays!Clexa break up and find their way back again.





	we all got expectations (and sometimes they go wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> Simply transferred over from tumblr on the basis I don't trust things won't be deleted there...
> 
> [anonymous asked: I'd love to read something from Broken Sundays where Clarke and Lexa see each other during one of their breaks. Thank you!]

It’s been just under six months and Clarke has come to the illogical conclusion that even the air tastes different now that Lexa isn’t a main player in her  life anymore. She remembers talking to her friends about it at college, when it first happened, about how food just wasn’t as satisfying and sleep wasn’t as easy and they all made noises in the right places and would regurgitate lines about time healing all wounds and how she needs to go through each stage of grief and own it.

Which is all bullshit in her very valid opinion because time  _ does  _ heal all wounds and it doesn’t hurt like it used to but Lexa is no longer hers and, honestly, it’s the worst feeling in the world. Just because she doesn’t cry at night or physically long for Lexa’s touch like she did in those first few weeks doesn’t mean that she still doesn’t feel that loss, that pain. 

On her worst days she remembers  _ everything.  _ She looks through pictures and images of a younger Lexa and her younger self smile back at her, shoulders and cheekbones fading from sun kissed and freckled all the way through to wrapped in layers and dusted with snow. There are presents that she reminds herself of, little gifts they’ve given one another, and they make her smile. It all makes her smile and and cry and laugh she wonders if she should do such a thing but then she stops and thinks and she knows that of course she should smile! Being with Lexa was the happiest time of her life and denying that, being sad about it, is almost a disservice to everything that they went through. 

When they broke up it was easy. Clarke is very aware that, for some, those words don’t make sense but her and Lexa have never done anything the simple way. It was painful and scary and awful when they broke up, yes. But it was easy. Because it was through communication and understanding and mutual love for one another that it happened. And she knows, they both know, that it isn’t forever anyway. 

It can’t be. 

Clarke once vowed to herself that she would love Lexa forever the moment that the brunette kissed her with her caramel sweet tongue. 

* * *

“It’s okay. The bedroom isn’t much to rave about but the kitchen is big and the backyard is awesome so I can’t complain,” her dad tells her when she asks about his new house and she keeps a smile on her face in an attempt to sound happy when she speaks to him.  The thought of her parents not living together hurts her a lot, especially when she knows she’s the main cause of their breakdown, and she tries not to dwell on it too much. “I think you’ll like it. You can help me pick out some things the next time you come home. I think it needs a real artists touch to make it pop.”

“One daughter complete with interior designs coming your way in the near future,” she laughs softly and she puts her hand over her eyes when he cheers down the phone, completely embarrassed by his antics despite being alone in her bedroom and with nobody in her shared house at all. “You’re so lame.”

“How dare you speak to such a cool and amazing dad like that?”

“Oh, I dare,” Clarke grins and it’s the widest she’s smiled in absolute months. She will always and forever thank the stars that fate twisted and turned and adjusted just enough that Jake Griffin was her father. “I’ll let you know closer to the date when I’ll be back but I already can’t wait to see you, dad.”

“I’ve missed you too, kid,” he says and Clarke can hear the wistful sigh in her voice. In her mind's eye she sees him in his brown leather chair, his feet kicked up in front of him as he rests a cup of coffee on his stomach. She can practically smell his aftershave, the laundry detergent he uses, she can feel the softness of pillows beneath her as she sits in the room with him and meets eyes that look so much like hers. “Will Lexa be coming back with you?”

“We broke up, dad. I told you.”

“I remember, I’m not that old just yet. I thought you said that you were still friends?”

“We are but it’s different,” Clarke replies and she feels herself becoming distant. Because she has really spoken to Lexa in weeks and she hasn’t seen her in a long, long time.

There was a time when Clarke could rattle off what Lexa was doing, right down to the very minute, but she struggles now to even remember what days her long classes are on. She wonders if there is another girl with this knowledge, if there is someone else who knows Lexa’s quirks and tastes and feelings.

There is nothing more in this world Clarke wants more than to know Lexa is happy but she squashes her thoughts of someone else rapidly because,  _ oh. _

That’s not something she can think about yet.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could take away what you’re feeling.”

She smiles at that because her dad might be the most perfect person put onto this world. “I’m a lot better than I was,” she admits and she hears him let out a satisfied sigh at that.  “Dad, do you think that you could ever be friends with mom again?”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone and Clarke closes her eyes. Her parents were happy before and even if she has no regrets about coming out, about meeting Lexa and finding love, she knows it put an unbelievable amount of strain on her parents. When the separation came, Clarke cried for hours in Lexa’s arms. And it didn’t matter how often Lexa or her dad or Raven would tell her that her mother's actions had nothing to do with her; it didn’t matter.

Guilt built and built and built.

And the higher it grew, the stronger it became, and it chipped away at the walls her and Lexa had built their future in and it broke down her defence and before she knew what was happening she was alone.

Alone and rebuilding and sad.

“No, I suppose not in the traditional way,” he finally says and Clarke just nods because there isn’t much comfort she can give. Her dad has insisted too many times to count that she isn’t to blame, that it wasn’t her fault and that even adults fall out of like with one another before they fall out of love. But still, that means nothing when the family dynamic she knew so well growing up broke into pieces the moment she held a girls hand. “I just hoped Lexa would stick around for you, you know? I liked her.”

“So did I,” Clarke laughs but it’s wet and sad and she longs for walks along that river to ease the sadness. “I always knew you liked her more than me.”

“Oh Clarke, of course I liked her more than you,” Jake teases but there is nothing to it and they softly make their way into silence before they finally say goodbye to one another. 

They didn’t just break up, Clarke thinks as she lays back on her bed and ignores how hard her heart is beating, they broke everything. 

* * *

Of all the people she’s ever known in her life, she never expected Finn Collins to turn up and come stumbling in like a newborn foal on a rainy Friday night. When she left Arkadia to dive headfirst into life and college and her relationship with Lexa she had simply assumed she’d left the long-haired beautiful boy back in the small town. It’s not difficult for Clarke to remember how sweet he was back then, even if a little flawed, and memories of him asking her to be his girlfriend in a soft voice at a Christmas dance swirl in her mind a little as he stands in the little diner and looks at Clarke with awe and shock and envy.

His face when she broke up that Thursday night in Spring was that of a broken little boy but, as he stands from his booth, he’s a man and it makes Clarke proud to see how much he’s grown and filled out and changed. There’s a small boy in across the table from him and she’s curious but, instead, she makes her way over to him with a small laugh and her arms outstretched. 

When he wraps her in a gentle embrace, it’s nice. His arms have filled out from what Clarke remembers and there’s a distinct brush of stubble against her temple as he pulls his body away from hers, his aftershave filling her senses and taking her back to her first true boyfriend. 

“Trust us to move out of the smallest town ever to exist and explore the big bad world and still manage to find one another,” Finn laughs and he’s attractive and wonderful and a thought fills Clarke that she hopes he’s happy. He really deserves to be happy. “What are you doing here, Griffin?”

“Studying,” she says and she knows she should be working but Finn is the only customer currently and her boss is easy-going when it comes to Clarke, she knows that. “I came here for college. What about you?”

Finn watches her curious eyes and he swallows a little, his hand coming to the back of his neck. “So this is Rory,” he finally introduces and Clarke schools her face enough that it lets Finn continue, his posture relaxing some. “He’s my boy. He’ll be two in August.”

“You’re a dad?”

“Strange how life is, huh?”

Clarke laughs a little at that but there isn’t a judging bone in her body, not for this. Looking at little Rory even she can see he is happy and healthy and his tiny arms have little rolls on them that she wasn’t to squeeze and adore. Thin brown hair cover his head and his inquisitive brown eyes take her but he doesn’t speak, a shy smile breaking across his chubby cheeks instead. 

“Two?”

“That summer after we graduated high school was intense,” he chuckles but there’s a sad look in his eyes that Clarke doesn’t want to deepen and she knows he’s probably had it rough, being so young and being a dad. “I’m lucky because Marie, his mom, is really good. She lets me see him as much as I want which is amazing.”

Clarke nods, supportive. “Does she live here in the city?”

“Oh, no, I’m just here to meet my mom,” he says and a dark look crosses his face. “She hasn’t really met him yet and she doesn’t want me taking him to Arkadia. You know how people talk. Marie lives here so I’m visiting.” 

The sardonic tone isn’t lost on Clarke and she knows Finn is talking about people like her mom, she isn’t an idiot. It hurts to know the town is  _ still  _ the same, that nothing has changed, and she reaches out to put her hand on his arm. “At least I’m not the centre of attention anymore,” she tries and  _ that  _ makes Finn laugh, his own hand coming to brush through his hair, and he nods at her.

“You and Lexa did stir up quite the scandal,” he muses. Rory makes a frustrated noise and he turns his attention back to his son, sitting down to give him attention. “How is she? Are you both doing alright?”

“She’s fine, we’re doing good,” she says and her eyes widen at that, knowing how wrong it sounded, and she tries to correct herself but Finn looks at her with a wide smile before she can explain. 

“I knew you two would make it,” he says and guilt drops in her stomach because they didn’t make it and she’s more aware of that than anyone. “Listen, can I give you my number? It’d be awesome to catch up properly. You can bring Lexa too if you want.”

She agrees and silently thanks the stars that some customers walk in, college students with unlimited stomachs and good tips, and she apologises before she moves away. 

_ I knew you two would make it,  _ feels more like a hammer to her chest than a complimentary sentence and she forgets to say goodbye to Finn as he leaves, so lost in her own thoughts.

* * *

Her faith has stayed as important to her now as it was then. She knows people question it, tell her how the LGBTQ community is looked down upon and hated by religion, but Clarke has always found solace in her beliefs.

St. Patrick’s Church welcomed her with open arms when she tentatively stepped in during her first year of college and have done nothing but support and love her since. Her sexuality doesn’t define her and she grew tired of being ‘Clarke Griffin, Bisexual’ a long time ago, instead wishing people would discuss her talents or her humor or her brain. Church gave her that relief and, as she sits in a pew and links her fingers, she’s glad she didn’t give it up like she wanted to all those years ago. 

“Good evening, Clarke,” Father Michael says as he passes by her and Clarke smiles, comfortable that he knows who she is, and she sits back as he considers her for a few moments. “Seeking warmth from that awful chill?” 

“Just needed the quiet to collect my thoughts,” she admits with a soft chuckle and even with the lights and the colourful pictures and kind face of her Pastor, she can still hear Finn’s words.  _ “I knew you’d make it,”  _ repeats in her mind and she wonders if everyone believed in them, wonders if they were the only two people who didn’t manage to see it through. “And it’s warm.”

He smiles at that, deep set wrinkles next to his mouth forming at her young words. “Can I help?” 

“No,” she says and she isn’t avoiding the subject or the need to talk about it. This is just something she needs to work through alone. Between the conversation with her dad, and then with Finn, a once muted person has rammed back into her life on full volume and she wishes she knew how to handle it. Breaking up with Lexa was painful, she reminds herself, but remembering her seems to be worse. 

He hums softly, a kind noise. “Your friend was in earlier,” he says to her and Clarke looks up, not surprised at all to know he’s talking about Lexa. It seems, to her at least, that everyone is talking about her recently. “She needed to clear her thoughts too, I think.” 

“Was she okay?”

“Oh,” he sighs and he turns to look at her completely, his attention on her fully even as others walk into the Church and find a place amongst the seats to find peace too. “I’m sure she will be.” 

Clarke knows he won’t divulge much more than that and she’s accepting of it, not wanting to pry into Lexa’s personal life with her faith more than she ever needs to. In that first year in college there was a struggle for Lexa between herself and her faith and Clarke remembers how she pulled away from the Church for a long time until one summer evening. A mild night where Lexa got ready with Clarke and they made their way to St. Patrick’s together. 

“I miss her,” Clarke admits and Father Michael barely reacts beyond a knowing nod. “I don’t know how to stop missing her.”

“I believe sometimes we have to face loss to understand strength and to understand strength we need to look inside ourselves,” he says softly to her, weathered hands holding onto the wood in front of her and when she meets his eyes all she can see is understanding and kindness. Where was this faith when she was younger? “What does your heart tell you, Clarke?” 

“That I miss her.”

He chuckles kindly at that and tilts his head. “Perhaps you should find your peace of mind not here but with her, don’t you think?” 

Her eyes widen at that and when she leaves, an hour later and without any real answers, Father Michael simply smiles at her with soft eyes and understanding. 

She knows he’s a rare case, that not everyone is as kind and as open as he is, but she hopes the world will learn one day just how easy it is to say yes to love like Father Michael has managed to do. 

* * *

“Careful,” Harper laughs as she walks past Clarke, her tray full of empty milkshake glasses and plates, “I’m slightly worried for my safety with the force of that yawn you just let out.”

Clarke smirks at that and rolls her eyes as the girl brushes into the kitchen area, disposing of the soiled utensils, and Clarke gives herself a little shake as she reminds herself she only has a few hours left at work. She’d stayed up late the night before on an essay that wasn’t due for weeks but she wanted to get it out of the way, mostly so she could spend more time with friends at the weekend and earning some money to go home. 

“What time are you working until?” Harper asks as she comes back out. She’s wiping her hands on a towel as she speaks and Clarke groans, her eyes on the black clock above the door that ticks slowly towards her finishing time. “That bad?”

“Seven,” Clarke replies but it still feels like forever away as the time creeps slowly towards five o’clock. It feels like she’s been here all day but there’s a part of her that isn’t too bothered; working keeps her mind busy and the busier her mind is then the less it has time to think about exes and rivers and trees the perfect shade of green. 

Harper sympathises softly but then a rowdy group of guys walk in, jeering and catcalling and falling over one another, and for the next hour Clarke doesn’t really think about anything.

* * *

And of course it happens.

Because it’s Sunday.

Of course it happens.

* * *

Lexa sees her but she pretends not to and Clarke doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. She watches as the brunette distracts herself by tidying away her menu but, in turn, all she manages to do is knock her napkins and cutlery from the table with a clatter loud enough to make the boys at the long table cheer.

There’s a deep blush on her cheeks as Clarke makes her way over and it’s so deliciously attractive that, for a moment, Clarke forgets she’s at work and has an urge to wrap her fingers around Lexa’s wrist and run, run, run away from prying eyes and fluorescent lighting and jukebox music that doesn’t fit the moment. 

“You’ve cut your hair,” is the first thing Lexa says to her in six months and it’s oh so Lexa that Clarke can do nothing, absolutely nothing, but laugh. She was going to be good, she was going to take her order and act like Lexa was another customer but her eyes are green and her lips are soft and Clarke is doomed.

She’s always been doomed.

“Do you like it?”

Lexa blushes again, long fingers tapping on the table, and she nods. “I think you’re aware that I like anything when it comes to you,” she says--no  _ breathes _ \--and just like that, just that suddenly, Clarke feels peace and serenity and glee wash over her in waves and waves and waves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to --” 

“Thank you,” Clarke interrupts. She knows what Lexa is like, she knows she’ll fumble and apologise and pretend like she didn’t mean the honest words she spoke and Clarke doesn’t want that. She’s always been most in love with this candid Lexa; the Lexa that shared cider with her and laughed deeply and held her hand in public. “You look good too, Lexa.”

There’s a moment where things go quiet and if it wasn’t for the rosy pink on Lexa’s cheeks, the swell of her smile and the bright shine in her eyes Clarke would think she’s just said something wrong. But she knows she hasn't. She knows the brief compliment is blooming inside Lexa’s chest, stretching and growing and flowering into a feeling neither of them have forgotten. She watches as Lexa’s jaw flexes a few times, her throat bobbing under words she can’t place right now, and she stands.

Patient.

If she thinks hard enough she can feel the breeze from the river, can hear the clacking of stones breaking over one another, the shuffle of animals as they dance through trees and long grass and flowers. 

She can smell perfume and hot cocoa and taste strawberries and caramel and apples.

If she tries hard enough and closes her eyes tightly then  she can pretend it’s just her and Lexa and the world begins to spin again.

“When do you finish?”

Lexa’s voice startles her, calm and relaxed and without the shake her own reply has. “An hour, and then I don’t really have much else to do.” 

“Hm,” she acknowledges and she taps at the table again, nervous and unsure and beautiful. “I’ll have a black coffee then, please. Take your time. I’m in no rush.” 

Clarke grins, able to read Lexa’s words better than anything written by any author in history. She ignores Harper’s questioning glare and the tut she hears from another table for waiting so long and makes her way to get a singular black coffee, two sugars, and hopes Sunday’s go back to being everything for her. 

* * *

With Spring rising, the light of the evening is pale and romantic and the streets are mild enough to walk with a small jacket. The sidewalks paint themselves with pale yellows and reds and greys as the sun dips behind buildings ready to bring the day to an end. Lexa walks next to her, her left hand occasionally brushing Clarke’s right, and it shouldn’t be so easy to fall back into such rhythm with a girl who bundled up her heart and carried it away with one last embrace.

“Did you know Finn was in the city?” Clarke starts and it’s so awkward how  _ Finn  _ manages to be the topic of conversation for her that her fingers flex tightly at her sides. Finn was always the boy that kissed Clarke first, who touched Clarke first, but Lexa seems to ignore all of that and makes a noise of genuine interest at the subject. “He has a son?” 

“I’m sure his mother loves that,” Lexa says and Clarke feels pride grow in her when her tone holds nothing but concern and kindness. She thinks back to Anya and Aden and the things people would say about them, the beliefs they held, and she purses her lips together as Lexa presses forward. “He’s our age, right? That must be hard.” 

Clarke nods, awe in her eyes at the mature girl in front of her and she doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. Six months is an intake of breath in the long life she knows her and Lexa have together but she can’t deny how much she’s missed, perhaps forgotten. “He seems to be okay. He said the mother is really good with him and he looks genuinely happy. It was nice to see.” 

“I’m glad.”

“He said he knew we’d always make it,” she blurts out and she wishes she knew why she said it because the heavy feeling drops in her stomach again. If Lexa is surprised by the subject change she doesn’t let on but the spark in her eyes dulls a little and she drops her head, eyes focusing on her steps instead of glancing over at Clarke. “I would have corrected him but I so wanted it to be true that I think I forgot.”

“We’ve made it out of that town, so he isn’t entirely wrong,” Lexa muses and there’s a wistful sigh to her voice, a beautiful tone that aches deep inside of Clarke. Everything inside of her screams at her to soothe Lexa, to hold her hand and assure her that it’s okay, but she shoves her hands inside the denim of her jacket instead and nods. “We’re studying subjects we love, have hobbies we enjoy. In one way we have made it.” 

“Except for our relationship,” Clarke says, because one of them had to. 

“Except for our relationship,” Lexa concedes and suddenly stops walking, her body several steps behind Clarke for a few seconds until the blonde notices, and when she turns Lexa is looking at her with such determination that her body trembles. “You know, I don’t plan on this break lasting forever Clarke. There is no scenario I can imagine in which I spend any single second of my life not loving you. You understand that, don’t you?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Absolutely not,” Lexa teases and Clarke hasn’t heard a more perfect reply in her life.

* * *

Clarke’s apartment block appears a lot sooner than either of them would have liked. The high archway and brown doorway looms from the sidewalk and Lexa looks at it for long moments, her eyes filling with memories. Clarke can see them running up the steps during a rainstorm, their hair soaked and droplets falling from their lips as they kissed and kissed and kissed. How they sat there studying, a thermos of hot chocolate between them, and Clarke laughing with Lexa’s roving commentary as people walked past.

She wonders what they would have looked like back then, two girls completely enamored with each other, lips and skin and hearts painted with kisses from the other. 

She wonders if people were envious of them, of the love they shared, of their lives.

She finds herself envious of her own past, even as she stands at the bottom of the stoop with the girl of her dreams in the city that managed to shape every single aspect of her life. 

“My dad has a new house,” Clarke says softly, desperate to keep the conversation moving. “He finally moved out of that awful apartment and he wants me to go back and help decorate.” 

“I know,” Lexa smirks and Clarke’s eyes widen enough that she rushes to explain, her hand lifting to push hair back over her own ear in a nervous gesture. “We talk sometimes. Jake and I.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes because of course they do, of course her dad would be too kind to let the girl his daughter fell in love with suffer a breakup alone. “I should have known you two would team up behind my back.” 

“Don’t tell Anya. I think she still harbors a crush on your dad, you know?”

“Shut up,” Clarke giggles and she reaches her hand out to slap at Lexa’s forearm. It takes less than a second for Lexa to capture her hand, to hold it against her arm with a soft smile, and her thumb runs over Clarke’s knuckles with a confidence that neither of them have felt in months and months and months. “I’ve missed you so much, Lexa.” 

For the first time since they started talking Clarke sees tears line green eyes; they build from the bottom, black eyeliner running only just, and her heart clenches. Because they’re beautiful and tragic and so in love it hurts. “If you only knew how empty I’ve been without you, you’d understand how much I’ve missed you too,” she says and Lexa has always had a way with words, a way to make something so simple a masterpiece, and she runs her hand down Lexa’s forearm to link their fingers together. 

“When we broke up you told me that you needed to understand yourself, have you found answers?” 

Lexa shakes her head slowly, her feet shifting ever closer to Clarke’s, and she sniffs softly. “I’m not going to stand here and lie and say breaking up with you was wrong and I know I can say that because I know you agree,” she starts and Clarke can do nothing but nod. 

Two years she spent with Lexa and she slowly went from being Clarke Griffin, to being Clarke and Lexa, to being Lexa’s girlfriend. And she knows that wasn’t ever Lexa’s intentions or plan and it certainly wasn’t hers for Lexa either; they lost their sense of identity, so wrapped up in one another, and while she lost her heart on that autumn evening she began to find herself again. 

“I know who I am with you and I know who I am without you, and I can honestly say that who I am without you is only half a person,” Lexa continues and she smiles softly at the girl in front of her. “Truth is I’m miserable without you and I’ve learnt to be without you. I don’t know if you need more time and if you do then that’s okay, but you’re my inevitability Clarke. You’re as inevitable as Sunday’s appearing each week. I hope you know that.” 

Clarke nods, gentle and slow and her heart beats loudly in her chest. “You’ve always been inevitable to me,” she says and watches Lexa swallow thickly, an emotion filling her eyes that almost overcomes them both. “Do you want to come inside? It’s warmer.”

“Are you trying to proposition me, Clarke Griffin?”

“If I was you’d already be inside,” she fires back and revels in the laughter she receives, the pure happiness. There’s a light in Lexa’s eyes that only appears with her and it grounds Clarke while simultaneously making her believe she can fly. But Lexa has always done that to her, always made her feel incredible and special and like she’s everything. One smile and she’s done. One little smile and she sees her future.  “Come inside, Lexa.”

Lexa nods, already tugging a little at Clarke’s hand. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it? There isn’t anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.” 


End file.
